volence, charity, and pity — which are expressive of good-will towards men — are amiable and praiseworthy in the possessor, and beneficial to society. Compassion is voluntary. A man may indulge it or avoid it. If the passenger may receive the sun's rays, and reflect some part of them to the poor wretch who lies in darkness, he may either pass on the other side, and thus avoid them, or he may impart this trifling influence. Or, as the diamond shines brightly after it has been exposed to the action of the sun, so may he be influenced; and thus he may cheer and illumine the dark abodes which he visits. It blesses him who gives, and him who takes. Portia, in the "Merchant of Venice," has beautifully described it :—

"The quality of mercy is not strain’d;

It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven,
Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown:
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above his sceptred sway,

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then show likest God's
When mercy seasons justice.”

Compassion may arise, not only from peasants and princes to their fellow-creatures, but also to the inferior animals. Cowper says,—

"I would not enter on my list of friends

(Though graced with polish'd manners and fine sense,

Yet wanting sensibility,) the man
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
An inadvertent step may crush the snail,
That crawls at evening in the public path;
But he that has humanity, forewarn'd,

Will tread aside, and let the reptile live."

But mankind, or many among them, have acted very shamefully towards worms, insects, birds, quadrupeds, and all on whom they could exercise their power. It is not surprising that compassion should occasion a calm and pleasing feeling in the mind of the possessor, although sometimes associated with pain; but the good effects resulting from it will produce a sunshine in the mind, so much the more enlivening, as the opening brilliancy of a summer's day will be increased by the mists and the dewdrops of the morning. But in what manner the base and inhuman practice of cruelty can increase the enjoyment of a rational being is rather mysterious. There is a certain kind of satisfaction produced; but it is the mere dross of earthly happiness. It is not "bliss such as angels feel," but such as may well arise in the breasts of demons. Vice throws out many a bait for its deluded votaries; and thus they are hurried on blindly to iniquity and ruin. But as it is with dead bodies, which become not only corrupt and offensive in themselves, but noxious to living persons, so the cruel man is frequently loathsome to himself and hateful to others.

From a low and unmanly inclination to cruelty arise a great number of brutal sports from the killing of a fly to the torturing of a bull. Whether

it be allowable for human beings to destroy any sort of animal, is a question which may be answered by another: Is it necessary for food, or is it injurious to comfort, cleanliness, or life? If so, it may be destroyed; but it should be done quickly, and rather as a matter of necessity than of pleasure.

The worst men that ever disgraced the earth were persons who cherished the feeling of cruelty. Rapin says of Jeffreys and Kirk, — "They were two tigers chafed with blood, who had no pleasure but in carnage." The best men, of whom the annals of history have made any record, have condemned cruelty as disgraceful.

The vice of cruelty has been shown in tormenting birds, dogs, badgers, bears, bulls, and other animals, for the sake of pastime. It has been urged, as an argument in favour of brutal sports, that they generate a daring spirit. It is true that they destroy all feelings of pity and sympathy, which are a powerful check sometimes to a daring infliction of wounds and tortures on our fellowcreatures, but they contribute nothing to personal courage. In order to accustom the Lacedæmonian youths to scenes of blood, and thus to deaden those feelings of humanity which might check them in battle, they were encouraged to massacre the slaves; and on one occasion three thousand were destroyed! Ferocity is no advantage to society. It makes men no better nor happier. It makes them neither better citizens nor better soldiers. Lord Erskine maintained, with much force of reasoning, in the House of Lords,

that brutal sports tended to decrease, rather than cherish, a feeling of courage.

Cock-fighting, dog-fighting, bull-baiting, and several other amusements, are the delight of the scum of society. Let a man be seen on his way to such an exhibition, and, in the opinion of reasonable persons, his character would be exceedingly low. Such a man, it would be thought, is destitute of piety: he is without virtue, without tender feelings, without honour. He is unintellectual; he is brutish: he is unkind at home; he is irregular abroad. He does not enjoy that greatest blessing—tranquillity, a good conscience. With such effects, and with such opinions, can we fancy that he is preparing himself for higher feelings of magnanimity, for nobler attainments of fortitude?

But there are other sports, rather more genteel, but not less cruel. Among these are shooting, hunting, and angling; all of which, when practised as a matter of necessity for a maintenance, or for the purpose of destroying noxious animals, are allowable; but when employed for the purpose of obtaining pleasure, by worrying and wounding inoffensive animals, they are cruel and unjust, and such as few men of a thoughtful and generous spirit would allow. (Some observations on this subject have been given in the chapter on Exercise.)

There may be some degree of cruelty, also, in pugilistic encounters and duelling; but in these cases the combatants are comparatively free. When the mind becomes habituated to cruelty, it

riots in the sufferings of others; and whether the pain arises from the miseries of beasts, or the woes of human beings, it is of little consequence; for, provided it does exist, it occasions a feeling of pleasure. And as the man of merit and virtue will endeavour to excel daily in his pursuits, so the barbarous man will strive to go further, day after day, in the novelty and excess of his shameful pastime.

Montesquieu quotes an account of an interview, at Meaco, in the East Indies, between the Emperor and the Deyro, in which the inclination for cruelty was exhibited in a most wanton manner. The number of persons that were murdered was incredible. Hundreds of boys and girls were sewn up in bags; horses were killed for the purpose of bringing their riders to the ground; and coaches were overturned, in order that the ladies who were in them might be plundered and murdered. Montaigne says, "I could scarce believe it, till I had seen it, that there could be such savage monsters, who would commit murder purely for the delight they took in it; and, from that motive only, could hack and lop off the limbs of their fellow-creatures, and rack their brains to find out unusual torments and new deaths, without enmity, without gain, and for this end only-to feast their eyes and ears with the distressful gestures and motions, and the lamentable cries and groans, of a man in the agonies of death!" The ferocious Severus, when he was residing in Alexandria, caused great numbers of condemned persons to be brought from Rome, that he might witness their execution,